


Samwise The Sensitive

by nhasablog



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Platonic Relationships, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was honestly not planning on doing anything, because he could tell that Mr. Frodo was tired, but the other hobbit clearly didn’t think so, so he did the only thing that could properly erase every thought of a tickle fight from his mind: he attacked Sam first.</p>
<p>(Or, Sam makes an interesting discovery about Frodo, but Frodo gets him before Sam even has a chance to consider doing the same.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samwise The Sensitive

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr nhasablog.tumblr.com

Life on the road was not exactly how Sam had imagined it. Whenever he’d fantasized about leaving the Shire it had never really involved travelling with Merry, Pippin, an elf, a dwarf, a wizard, and two men. In fact, just Merry and Pippin was absurd enough for him. His visions never really contained Black Riders chasing them around Middle Earth, a looming doom, nor a Ring slowly taking over Mr. Frodo’s mind either.

His visions were always bright; as if a constant sun provided him with light wherever he went. He was always merry and never hungry and he always had the strength to keep moving. The complete opposite from how things really were, that is.

He had to admit that he would follow Frodo on ten more similar journeys if he had to, but that didn’t keep him from grumbling to himself as they finally set camp for the night. He kept looking around the trees surrounding them; almost expecting something to pop up and attack them. Nothing would surprise him at this point.

“Are you tired, Sam?” Frodo asked as he lingered a bit behind him, watching as Sam rolled out his bedroll.

“Just a bit. Nothing I can’t handle,” Sam said quickly, not wanting Frodo to know how exhausted he actually felt. “Are you?”

Frodo walked closer to him and imitated his actions; his own bedroll almost touching Sam’s as he unrolled it. “A little,” he admitted, backing away to lean against a boulder, slowly sliding down to sit in front of it. “The fact that we haven’t encountered anything today makes me uneasy.”

“Don’t worry,” Aragorn spoke up from where he was helping Boromir light the fire. “If anything gets close we’ll notice. These woods are way too thick for anyone to be able to sneak up on us.”

Those words managed to calm Sam down a bit, and considering the sigh of relief that escaped from Frodo’s mouth, it had done the same to him.

Frodo patted the ground next to him and Sam sat down without a word. Dinner was spent rather quietly, unless you counted Gimli’s and Legolas’ bickering. All Sam wanted was to crawl into his bedroll, but he was sure that it would raise some questions, so he refrained.

“Sam, you look like a mess,” Pippin noted after they had finished eating.

Sam snorted. “You don’t look much better.”

“He’s right, though,” Merry said, squinting his eyes at him. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

Sam shook his head. “I got enough,” he replied, casting a sideway look at Frodo who was tilting his head at him in concern. “Don’t you start worrying about me.”

Frodo didn’t say anything, but only placed his hand on Sam’s arm for a few seconds. Sam had to admit that it felt good to know people cared.

“It’s the infinity of it all,” Frodo mumbled after a few seconds, his eyes sweeping over his companions. “It feels like we’ll never stop. That’s probably why we’re all so exhausted. That’s why you’re not feeling well, Sam.”

“I’m feeling fine, Mr. Frodo,” Sam reassured him.

Frodo turned his gaze to him. “You’re tired.”

“Well, with all this walking, how can I not be?”

Frodo shook his head. “Samwise the liar.” The corners of his mouth twitched as he said that.

Sam bit the inside of his cheek; aching to see that spasm turn into a real smile. “Frodo the mother hen.”

He felt his insides go warm as Frodo let out a laugh. “I cannot believe you of all people just called me that,” he said between his giggles.

Sam grinned, feeling utterly satisfied with himself. “At least it got you to cheer up.”

Frodo leaned into him, the hair at the top of his head tickling Sam’s ear. “I should be the one to cheer you up,” he said once his laughter had died down. “You’re the one who was feeling upset.”

“For the last time, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, poking him in the ribs. “I’m not-” The rest of his sentence was cut off when Frodo reached up to bat his offending hand away.

“Don’t do that,” Frodo said with another laugh. “I’ve gotten enough of that from Bilbo to last a lifetime.”

Sam’s contentment was instantly replaced with confusion. “Do what? What did I do?”

Frodo glanced up at him, his head still resting on Sam’s shoulder. “Oh, uh. Nothing.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Merry beat him to the punch. “You just tickled him,” he said, the smirk on his face audible in his voice.

Sam turned to him. “Tickled him?”

Merry nodded eagerly. “Uh huh. Little Frodo here is insanely ticklish, you see. He’s almost worse than Pippin.”

“Don’t drag me into this!” Pippin squeaked, shoving his cousin.

Merry ignored him. “It used to be the only effective method to get him to calm down once upon a time.”

Frodo finally sat up properly, his body shifting away from Sam’s ever so slightly. Sam’s mind was then filled with memories. The sound of shrieking laughter from inside Bag End as he helped his pa with Mr. Bilbo’s garden.

“Do you think they’re okay?” he’d asked his father, who had just chuckled.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” he’d replied, and Sam hadn’t thought much of it since then because it became such a normal thing in his life; Frodo laughing uncontrollably. Sam had always thought Bilbo was just particularly funny.

Another image of Frodo rushing past him, almost tripping in his haste to get as far away as possible. Sam had turned in alarm to see what was chasing the young hobbit, only to find Bilbo chuckling merrily a bit away. The strangeness of the situation had made him completely ignore the fact that Frodo had been laughing as he ran.

One last memory crossed Sam’s mind where he was sitting so very far away from the Shire. The image of Frodo giggling as Merry and Pippin crushed him in a hug just a few days ago. In retrospect Sam could remember their fingers wiggling lightly over Frodo’s sides, but it had all happened so quickly that Sam hadn’t had time to give it any thought.

He turned his head to look at Frodo now, feeling a grin tug at his own lips. Frodo was glaring at Merry, but met his gaze once he realized that he was being watched.

Sam was honestly not planning on doing anything, because he could tell that Mr. Frodo was tired, but the other hobbit clearly didn’t think so, so he did the only thing that could properly erase every thought of a tickle fight from his mind: he attacked Sam first.

Sam yelped as he suddenly had a lapful of Frodo; his balance then failing him and causing them both to tumble to the ground, Frodo effectively pinning him down.

Sam found himself laughing the very moment Frodo’s nimble fingers fluttered over his sides. “Mr. Frodo!” he called out, quite surprised over his friend’s actions. “Wahahait!”

Frodo just laughed; all teeth and a scrunched up face. “What’s the matter, Sam?”

Sam was vaguely aware of the rest of the fellowship sniggering at them, but the only thing he was able to focus on was the way Frodo’s hands moved over his sensitive spots; as if they knew exactly how to reduce him to a giggly mess. He supposed having lived with Mr. Bilbo’s antics for so long had its perks.

Sam felt his face heat up as Frodo zeroed in on his tummy, and he automatically raised one hand to hide behind, the other flailing around in order to push Frodo away. He always turned red when he laughed too hard and he’d hated that fact for as long as he could remember.

“Mr. Frodo, nohoho!” he giggled into his palm, his voice slightly muffled.

“Why are you hiding your face?” Frodo asked, an edge to his voice that Sam couldn’t entirely identify.

Frodo moved upwards to tickle his ribs, causing Sam to snort. “Dohohon’t!”

“Don’t hide, Sam,” Frodo said, suddenly latching onto his wrist to pull his hand away from his face. Sam managed to grab Frodo’s other hand in the process, ceasing the tickling at least momentarily.

He gasped for air as Frodo observed him with a tilted head. For a few seconds they just stared at each other, and the rest of the company started shifting uncomfortably somewhere behind Frodo; the scene suddenly feeling a lot more intimate than before. Sam noticed that his face wasn’t cooling down at all, despite the fact that he wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Can someone pass me a knife?” Boromir asked loudly, making Frodo snap his head to the side before turning back to Sam.

“I certainly hope you’re not embarrassed over your laugh,” he told him, almost scolding him.

Sam blinked. “What? Oh, no, no. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Frodo asked over the sound of Gandalf saying something to Aragorn.

Sam didn’t like the fact that he was forced to look at Frodo when he’d rather cover his burning cheeks again. “It’s just my face,” he mumbled, averting his eyes at least.

Frodo leaned closer to him. “What about it?”

“It gets all red and warm when I laugh,” Sam explained with a shrug, as if it didn’t matter at all to him.

Frodo chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds before leaning down even more, their foreheads touching ever so slightly. “I like it,” he whispered, but Sam barely had time to reply before Frodo had slipped his hand free and attacked Sam’s belly once more.

“I like it a lot!” Frodo declared over his ringing laughter; straightening up and grinning like a fool at him.

He only stopped once Aragorn told them that they were making too much noise, and by that time Sam was completely exhausted. He curled up in his bedroll; his breathing coming out in uneven huffs.

But he was happy. It had been ages since he’d laughed this hard, and even though he knew that the worst was probably still ahead of them, he couldn’t help the giddy feeling from spreading through his body as he caught Frodo smiling fondly at him. Yes, he’d follow Mr. Frodo on ten more similar journeys as long as he could feel as content as he did when he fell asleep that night.


End file.
